


No Witnesses

by marmolita



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:24:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha's five worst (best?) kills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Witnesses

**Author's Note:**

> For chooseyourownapocalypse, who requested for "Natasha's five worst (best?) kills" when I asked for fic requests.
> 
> WARNINGS: This is about Natasha killing people, including killing women, children, and innocent civilians. There is also a reference to a man keeping underage girls as sex slaves. Really, there is some nasty stuff in here, so you have been warned.

1\. The first kill in the Red Room

Natasha was eight years old the first time she killed someone. She remembers the feel of the gun in her hands, heavy enough that she needed both hands to hold it up and aim. She remembers the old woman, wrists chained together, shoulders slumped under a ragged gown. She remembers Ivan’s hand on her shoulder, his whisper in her ear.

She remembers the recoil after she fired throwing her back into Ivan’s arms, the surprisingly red spatter on the floor, the streak of blood smeared down the wall when the woman collapsed to the floor.

She remembers how proud Ivan was, and how happy that made her.

2\. Drakoff’s daughter

For six months, the little girl didn’t say a word. Natasha knew that she had been in the room, hiding under the bed, while her mother and father were beaten, tortured, and finally murdered. They had found her hours later, hiding in the kitchen cupboard, having followed a trail of small bloody footprints from the bedroom. When Natasha was alone with her, she told the girl about her own history, how she had hidden when her family was shot, how Ivan had taken her in. “Would you like me to take care of you?” she asked, smiling gently. The little girl had nodded, and snuggled up against Natasha’s side.

Six months of lullabies and bedtime stories, six months of ice cream and candies. Six months of the girl crawling into Natasha’s bed when she woke from nightmares, six months of tears drying on Natasha’s breast. When she finally spoke, she told Natasha everything that had happened: what the men who came had looked like, what they had smelled like. What they had said, and the awful sounds of her parents’ screams. How her parents had held out the whole time, and never told the men what they asked for. How they had never told them that the files were hidden beneath the floorboards of her father’s office.

Natasha held the girl for a long time while she cried, making soothing sounds in her ear. When she had cried herself to sleep, Natasha wrapped her hands gently around the girl’s head. She was so small, such a tiny little thing -- the crunch of bone when Natasha snapped her neck was remarkably loud.

3\. The hospital fire

Almaty, Kazakhstan. Three Kazakh separatists, high up in the organization, planning an attack on the Kremlin that couldn’t be carried out without them. Their manifesto had been long, full of “can’t let the Russians tell us how to live our lives” and “for the safety of the Kazakh children.” The latter was no surprise, as all three were obstetricians in Almaty’s biggest hospital.

Disabling the fire alarm system was a simple matter, as was barring the emergency exits. Planting the explosives was slightly more complicated, but Natasha blended in in a crisp nurse’s uniform, and nobody questioned her movements through the nursery, the delivery rooms, the recovery rooms.

Natasha walked out the door connecting the maternity ward to the rest of the hospital and applied a locking device. She activated the timer, and walked out the front door of the hospital, smiling and nodding at the people coming in.

4\. Sao Paulo

Sao Paulo was supposed to be an easy job, a quick in and out. The informant, Miguel, had done the recon and the target spent every Wednesday night alone in his basement. What he had failed to do was follow the target into the basement, and when Natasha entered and found that he had a dungeon full of underage girls, she nearly turned back around and left. The timeline was tight though, and it had to be done as soon as possible, so she stepped quietly down the hall, signing to the girls who saw her from their cells to be quiet.

Natasha found the target in the last cell, with a girl who couldn’t have been more than nine years old chained to the wall by her wrists. She shot him in the back of the head, and blood and tissue spattering out across the girl’s face and bare chest. The girl opened her mouth to scream, and Natasha fired again.

She murdered fourteen girls in their cells, because Black Widows leave no witnesses.

5\. The last kill in the Red Room

There is a room with a drain in the floor. The concrete is cold to the touch, except where it has been warmed by blood. Natasha has bled for days, the gashes shallow but treated with an anticoagulant that keeps the blood to a constant trickle. Ten days chained to a chair. Ten days with no food and only a few sips of water. Ten days of razorblades and needles and brass knuckles.

Ivan comes to unchain her on the tenth day. He always comes to her after she’s been punished, a savior who brings her water and washes the blood away. He buys her loyalty with the barest generosity. They have been repeating this pattern for so many years that Natasha has lost count, but this time Ivan is not careful. This time, there is a drawstring on his pants, and when Natasha’s hands are free the drawstring is around Ivan’s neck.

This time, she walks out of the Red Room and never looks back.


End file.
